


The tentacle monster that didn't

by Zauzat



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M, Mirror Universe fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-15
Updated: 2010-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:02:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zauzat/pseuds/Zauzat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirror Universe: Kirk gifts McCoy with a tentacle monster. When it appears to be more interested in cuddling him than violating him, he doesn't know what to do with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The tentacle monster that didn't

  
"So Bones, I just wanted to thank you _properly_ following that last surgery…"

Captain Kirk leans against McCoy's office door, flashing a broad smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I've had the _gift_ sent to your cabin. Do feel free to have a look, at your convenience."

The captain turns on his heel and stalks off. McCoy sucks in a deep breath. The danger has passed, at least for the moment. _Thank_ him. Like fuck. It had been a desperate scramble to keep Kirk alive when some alien spore on an away mission had triggered yet another unknown yet potentially lethal allergy. Thirty god-damned hours without sleep before the doctor was finally sure that his patient would recover and recover unharmed.

But saving Kirk's life is never without consequence. The captain hates being seen as weak, and hates even more the allergies that leave his life so often in the hands of his chief physician. His _thanks_ are always a tricky matter. He avoids the agony booth for McCoy, choosing instead things what will cause the maximum of humiliation for the doctor without actually alienating him, or undermining his status with the rest of the crew.

McCoy wonders grimly what devious plan the psychotic youngster who is so unfortunately his commanding officer has come up with this time. He hesitates. It will have to be faced eventually. Better get it over with than spend hours in fearful anticipation. He signs himself off for the rest of the shift and heads, grim-faced, back to his cabin.

He is barely inside his door before he is pressed up against the wall by a vast grey-orange monster. A tentacle has both his arms held securely above his head, two more pull his legs apart, the rest are exploring, looping inside his clothing to slide over his chest, slithering down his pants around his genitals. Two huge eyes leer at him from a bulbous head. An honest-to-god giant cephalopod. Fuck but he is going to get Kirk for this.

And to speak of the devil, the large screen above his desk lights up, filling with Kirk's smirking face. Clearly the bastard has been monitoring the cabin, waiting to see how long it takes McCoy to face up to investigating. "So, do you like my little present, Bones? I got him in one of those street bazaars on Risa. And do you know what he eats, Bones? It's fascinating stuff! Did your medical training extend to tentacle monsters?"

Jim waits expectantly. The monstrous creature is apparently mapping the entirety of the doctor's body. One tentacle is right down his pants leg exploring his ankle, another is up behind his ears, rummaging in his hair. And one, which is mortifyingly distracting, is poking curiously at his anus.

"Why don't you inform me, Captain?" McCoy manages through gritted teeth.

"Body fluids, Bones. It lives on body fluids. And if it can't find any available immediately, it goes looking for them. Or forces the manufacture of them. You can imagine, can't you?"

And yes, McCoy damned well can. In fact if he wasn't the one on the fucking receiving end, he'd admire the ingenuity of it. He can imagine in vivid detail a tentacle squirming up into his bowel in search of excrement, crawling down his throat to slurp out his saliva, pushing into the slit of his penis following the scent of urine. And goading him into unwanted erections to try and force forth semen. Oh yes, this is a Kirk special, thoroughly frightening while exquisitely humiliating.

But Kirk specials aren't always all that well thought through. Both he and Spock have had to scramble at times to patch up gaping holes in their captain's plans, while trying to make it look as if the final success is all down to their commanding officer's genius. He wonders if this thing has any kind of limit, or whether it will just slowly tear him open in search of the fluids that lie inside. The human body, 70% liquid, now isn't that a comforting thought at such a moment?

Kirk probably didn't even bother to ask the merchant how to control it, too taken with the immediate excitement of how he could use it. McCoy is on his own in trying to survive this one, and he's apparently got smirking Kirk as an audience while he does it.

He gets a lucky break though. Behind Kirk frantic calls begin to come through the comm. It sounds like an unexpected encounter with an alien ship. Kirk swears furiously. "Keep him warm for me, Bonzie baby. I'll be back as soon as I can."

At least he can try and figure a way out of this without the peanut gallery looking on. But then it occurs to him that he doesn't appear to need a way out. The monster, having finished a full body exploration, is not trying to suck his life fluids out through his orifices. Instead it has let his arms go and is sort of sitting in front of him, staring at him with big grey eyes. If it was a dog, McCoy would think that it was looking expectant.

They consider each other for a while. Finally, for lack of anything better to do, McCoy stalks to his cabinet and pours himself a stiff drink. He's damned well earnt it. The monster follows, scuttling quickly on its long arms. It picks up the bottle, dips the tip of a tentacle curiously into the liquid in the glass, and then settles down next to McCoy, as if waiting to see what happens next.

The doctor is completely mystified. Has it stopped because Kirk has gone? Does the captain really have that control over it? Or has Kirk been royally ripped off on Risa, taken in by some kind of cephalopod con-artist? On Risa anything is possible.

Finally, for lack of anything better to do, McCoy goes back to his medical bay. The monster follows. The doctor would really rather that it didn't but given that it stands nearly eight feet high when fully raised up on its tentacles, he's not in a position to argue. He'd love to just poison the damned thing but clearly there is some kind of deeper scheme behind this that he has yet to understand. Best not to annoy his captain by killing his pet just yet.

His staff are all boggling at him but the monster shows no interest in anyone else, just follows the doctor everywhere. Fortunately it looks impressively intimidating so McCoy makes no effort to explain himself, just acts as if he always has a hundred pounds of giant grey-orange squid dogging his every step.

The Enterprise appears to be involved with some sort of nasty dog-fight with a squadron of enemy ships. McCoy couldn't care less about the details. That is what shit-for-brains command crew are for. He's just there to patch up the damage. The captain is clearly demanding things that neither the engines nor the weapons systems are easily able to supply. There is a steady stream of red-shirts being vomited out of engineering with burns and cuts.

As usual McCoy swears and curses his way through the procedures. His nurses are as useless as space is vast. Half are always trying to work out how to attract the attention of the captain. The other half are bitterly regretting having attracted said attention. The captain can be a very inventive man. After the third time round of demanding plasti-skin for a burn from a distracted girl who is sporting bruises down her neck and clearly walking strangely, he finds a long tentacle delicately offering him the skin, while two more wait with the sealant and the regenerator.

By the end of the shift it is clear that the cephalopod learns far faster than his nurses and has the great advantage of having six arms available at any one time. It also only follows his orders and never gets distracted. McCoy is beginning to think that every doctor should have one. Nevertheless he is increasingly edgy as he waits impatiently for the dark underbelly of this useful arrangement to reveal itself.

The evening continues peacefully. The dog-fight is on-going but McCoy is off shift. Let someone else mop up the mess. He eats alone in his cabin, alone that is except for a giant tentacle monster watching his every move. He decides to shower before bed. He's going to use some of his precious water shower ration, it's been a fuck of a day and he deserves it. He's also curious to see what the monster does in the presence of water.

It turns out that it loves water. It climbs happily into the shower next to him and writhes under the spray, splashing about in the puddles, yet always watching him. McCoy sponges himself down and when he can't quite reach that annoying bit in the middle of his back, a tentacle delicately takes the sponge from his hand and does the rubbing for him. It's quite bizarre. It becomes even more outlandish when he crawls into his bunk and monster follows, tucking its head into the crook of his arm and covering his body with a lace-work of tentacles.

McCoy lies rigid for hours, waiting for something to happen but the cephalopod just rests beside him, vibrating very gently, emitting a faint hum. One might almost think that it was happy.

On the way to his medical bay the next morning McCoy is ambushed as he rounds a corner. It is a long time since anyone junior has had the audacity to attack the chief physician and he is taken by surprise. Yet by the time he fully realises what is happening, three men are suspended against the wall. There is a tentacle around each throat and others have ripped each pair of pants open and are curled tightly around three shrivelled sets of genitals. The screaming from the pain in the groin is nicely muffled by the choke-hold around the neck.

McCoy considers them as they slowly turn blue. An ensign resentful because McCoy had stitched up a knife wound manually without anaesthetic rather than using a regenerator, accompanied by two of his allies. The doctor sighs. It had been done on the orders of Sulu, who had been furious that one of his trainees had been too slow to avoid the slash of a sword. But of course the physician gets the blame.

When all three men have finally passed out, McCoy signals to the cephalopod to drop them. It obeys instantly. The skin of the men around both throat and groin is nicely marked with sucker bruises. It will be very obvious who did this to them. McCoy smirks and lets the monster drape a tentacle companionably across his shoulders as they continue to the medical bay. He has no idea what's going on but he's going to take advantage while it lasts.

Soon afterwards Kirk bursts into the sick bay, obviously low on sleep and high on adrenaline. Clearly the dog-fight concluded successfully. "So Bonzie baby, are you still on your feet?" The sight of the doctor in the middle of surgery on an engineer ripped open by an exploding nacelle, assisted by the tentacle monster who is calmly handing over the required instruments, is clearly not what he expects.

"What the fuck have you done to it?" Kirk demands as he slams McCoy against a wall and brings an agonizer up under his chin. At least that is what he presumably intended to do. The cephalopod has him suspended by the throat, with the agonizer safely confiscated, before he can touch the doctor.

McCoy smirks coldly as he signals to the monster to release Kirk. "I've done nothing, Captain. But the two of us are getting along famously. I meant to come and thank you for the gift. I clearly owe you for this!"

Kirk is nothing if not quick on the uptake. Based on that little display he has already assessed the speed and strength of the creature and realised that both are impressive. The cephalopod is a formidable protector. At least for the moment, the balance of power between the two men has shifted. Until Kirk can find a way to alter it once more, he'll have to live with it.

"You owe me alright!" He straightens up and smiles grimly, clearly trying to look as if this is what he intended all along. McCoy nods with appropriate solemnity while crowing inside. He so seldom gets the better of his captain!

At the end of the day McCoy sweeps the cephalopod back to his quarters for a little private celebration. Before he has finished changing out of his work clothes, the creature has already poured him a drink of his favourite brandy and brought his slippers. All that observation seems to be focused on learning his habits. McCoy could get used to this.

By the time he retires to bed, he is slightly tipsy and rather more horny. Getting one over Kirk tends to do that to him. He considers what to do about it. The awkward truth is that what McCoy really likes is taking it hard up the ass. But he is too senior an officer for that to be easily organised. He dare not submit to a subordinate. The word would be out and his reputation ruined within hours. Spock is not interested in such things, an icicle of inhumanity wedded to his agonizer. Kirk is too fickle, forever chasing the next novel experience, more interested in feminine screams. Scotty has that machine of his, of course, but McCoy is never voluntarily risking his tender ass with that thing.

He secretly looks forwards to the visits of inspection by Admiral Pike. Now there is a man with a cock to be proud of who knows what to do with it. The Admiral always makes sure, thoroughly sure, that the senior crew, captain included, are reminded that in the greater hierarchy, they are just one level above nothing. The doctor bitches and moans, of course, while privately enjoying every moment. But such moments are few and far between.

He settles down for the next best thing, by now sufficiently accustomed to the tentacle creature to ignore it. Something intermediate he decides, a few toys but nothing too taxing. The creature watches wide-eyed as he teases his nipples to hard peaks and then attaches little clamps, writhing against the sharp bite of the tiny teeth. He flicks and twists them for a bit, while his cock gradually engorges. He then clips a cock ring right around the base of his shaft and lubes up one of his bigger dildos.

He shoves it in without preparation, gasping at the burn, loving the enforced stretch of protesting muscles. He pushes it in and out as best as he can, but it is always awkward doing this alone. Even with the added benefit of vibration, it just can't match the excitement of a really rough fucking. Still, it serves his purpose and gets him off. The cephalopod watches closely, inspects each of the various toys curiously and then delicately dips the end of a tentacle in the semen pooled on his stomach.

McCoy has a moment of panic, remembering Kirk's initial description. Is this the trigger that will launch the monster into action? Apparently not. It does devour the semen but then does nothing more than curl up next to him as before. In recognition of its sterling service during the day, McCoy curls an arm around its upper body and pats it cautiously on the head. It blinks at him and the vibration strengthens noticeably, as does the hum. Right. Cuddling with giant octopus. This had not been in the Empire's recruiting brochure.

McCoy wakes in a good mood. He is on the late shift and intends to enjoy a lazy morning in bed. As ever, sex inspires more sex and there is morning wood to be taken care off. He throws off the sheet and wonders how to go about it.

And finally the monster springs into action. Abruptly he finds his hands pinned above his head, wrapped tightly in a tentacle as strong as steel. The bulk of the beast is settled between his legs, pushing his thighs apart. McCoy's heart rate spikes. His mouth goes desert dry. Maybe it took this long for the fiend to finally feel hungry. He pushes against the restraint around his hands, tries to throw off the weight sitting on his thighs, but it's futile. The monster is far too strong. It will be hours before he is missed, and far longer before anybody dares to enter his cabin uninvited. Even if anyone hears his screams, such sounds are not uncommon on the ISS Enterprise and the crew know better than to intervene.

He's going to die, slowly, painfully, sucked out through his own orifices by a cephalopod. He wonders if they will say as much in his obituary. His mother will not be pleased. He waits for the inevitable.

Nothing happens. The creature also seems to be waiting for something. It is watching him, as ever, waiting for... McCoy finds himself laughing hysterically. It's waiting for him to consent! Captain Fucking Kirk got so badly taken in that Risan bazaar that he bought a monster that waits for its victim's consent. Damn, he'd like to meet that merchant and shake his hand.

But does he have a choice? Maybe if he doesn't consent he will simply be held here until he dies of dehydration. It doesn't make sense, though. This monster watches, learns and then copies. Last night it watched. This morning... McCoy hesitates. Presumably it will release him if he demands it. But he knows that he's not going to. He's far too curious about what it will do. He nods at it cautiously.

He can feel the vibration down to his bones as it hums at him happily. Tentacle 1 keeps his arms stretched tight and taut above his head. Tentacles 2 and 3 each wrap around a thigh and pull them up and out, leaving his genitals dangerously, deliciously exposed. But the creature is not yet interested in that. Instead tentacle 4 writhes back and forth across his chest as if it is trying to work something out. Finally it finds the right bit of tentacle to allow it to place a sucker over each nipple. It pushes down and then sucks back up and McCoy screams in surprise. This feels quite unlike the clamps but just as good. It starts a rhythmic suction of his tits that leaves him whimpering with pleasure.

Tentacle 5 now sets off to explore his aching erection. The tips of the tentacles are surprisingly delicate and this one curls curiously around the pulsing shaft, dips into and explores inside the foreskin, tickles tentatively at that oh-so-sensitive spot just below the head and finally wriggles through the leaking pre-come and tries to see how far it can squirm into the slit. Thirty-six hours ago this idea filled the doctor with horror, but now he is cussing like a sailor, pressing hard against the cephalopodan appendages, trying to get his throbbing cock a little closer to that teasing tentacle.

Apparently happy that the human appendage has reached its maximum size, tentacle 5 winds a coil tight round the base, leaving McCoy arching off the bed as the living cock-ring squeezes around him. The tip continues caressing his leaking erection as the last two tentacles begin to move. There is really only one place for them to go and McCoy is shivering with excitement, but his damned squid is apparently a tease. It is trailing its arms across the tender flesh of his inner thighs, pulling and releasing with the suckers. With the bruises that it must be leaving, the doctor is going to look like a Dalmatian. He couldn't care less.

For the last day and half his worst nightmare has been that this thing will push its endless arms deep into his anus. And now, when he can think of nothing that he wants more, it's absorbed in tickling the back of his knees!

At last a tentacle pushes curiously into his asshole. The end doesn't have the girth that he wants but it just keeps on slithering in. He doubts that he's ever taken anything this deep. He panics for a moment, visualising perforated intestines, leakage into the abdominal cavity, peritonitis... Seemingly sensitive to his mood, it pulls back and lets inquisitive suckers pulse against the soft mucosa until it find that spot that makes him howl with pleasure.

With tentacle 7 in deep, a sucker pulsing erratically against his prostate, tentacle 8 pushes in to join its companion. This one has been doubled over to allow for a much bulkier insertion. The doctor moans helplessly against the sheer size of it, whimpering as it begins to pump in and out of his grossly extended hole.

He is thrashing helplessly, desperate to be allowed to climax, when it finally retreats, pulling out of his anus, releasing his nipples, easing the coil around the base of his cock. McCoy splutters furiously. "You fucking cock-tease, get back here! You can't leave a man hanging like this!"

However the monster appears to have plans. Without ever letting the doctor go, it is rearranging his position, as if trying to solve a puzzle. It rears up over him and for the first time McCoy gets a good view of what lies beneath the giant head, nestled in the groin of all those tentacles. There is the mouth of course, the classic parrot-like beak and next to it is something else... He swallows hard.

Vague memories of high-school biology classes bubble up, the sort of odd facts that had the boys tittering in the back but were never suitable for inclusion in exam papers. _Deep water squid have the greatest known penis length relative to body size of all mobile animals, second in the entire animal kingdom only to certain barnacles._ Well, that would appear to apply to eight-foot alien cephalopods as well. The monster has a cock that would make a breeding stallion feel inadequate. If that is going where he suspects that it is going, thank god for all the tentacle play first.

The first thing that happens is that the beak slides over his cock. He squeaks in alarm as the sharp edges close around the base of his shaft. They could sever his genitals in a heartbeat. It feels devastatingly, deliciously, dangerous. Inside the mouth are soft mucous membranes that pulse around his weeping erection like the inside of a throat. And that giant cock is situated so conveniently close to that glorious mouth. He howls in pleasure as that vast length pushes relentlessly in and then begins to hammer his tender ass.

It doesn't take long before he is pumping fountains of semen into the monster's mouth and it is sucking it all up like mothers' milk.

He drifts in a haze of endorphins, all capacity for coherent thought long since fucked right out of him. He finally focuses to find the cephalopod cleaning him up with a damp cloth held in one tentacle while offering him a cup of coffee with another. It has milk but no sugar, just as he likes it. He could swear that the monster is radiating smugness.

He takes the coffee and pats the bed beside him. As usual it pushes up into the crook of his arm, butting against his chest as if seeking attention. He strokes the bulbous head and its vibrations reach into every part of him, its low hum filling the room. They would appear to be snuggling.

McCoy thinks about it. So the monster apparently feeds on his semen. With that kind of encouragement he is quite happy to feed it daily. The creature is a formidable body-guard, an able nurse, a willing helper, a silent wife and the kinkiest dominant he has ever had the pleasure of being rogered by. It appears to be utterly loyal to him, it has no ambitions that require his premature death and it doesn't talk back. Really what more could he ask for? If the price for this unexpected bounty is learning to cuddle, well, he will just have to man up and cuddle.

\- THE END -


End file.
